Margaret clung fast to her father, and hid her face in his coat tails when he tried to introduce her to her new guardian; Laura and Kate held each other's hands tightly, and stared hard at their aunt, trying not to blink in the sudden blaze of light.
The grand drawing-room, with its chandeliers and tall mirrors and gilded chairs, rather overawed them. "Children were out of place there."
"Miss Cripps is waiting for the girls in the schoolroom; James can show them the way," said Mrs. Russelthorpe; and then her bright eyes fell on Margaret.
"You spoil your youngest, I am afraid," she remarked.
Margaret clung closer to her father.
"Oh, don't let me be taken away from you," she sobbed; and Mr. Deane lifted her on to his shoulder, where she stopped crying; and looked defiance at her aunt, with one chubby hand resting on his wavy bright brown hair.
"You must forgive our bad manners to-night. Meg is very fond of her old father, aren't you, lady-love?" he said; and he carried her down to the dining-room (though with an apologetic glance at his sister), and she sat on his knee while he ate his dinner, and sipped sherry from his glass, and listened wide-eyed to his talk.
Mrs. Russelthorpe shook her head, and bided her time. Charles was going away to-morrow, and Meg should be taught how to behave herself before he came back.
In the meantime the little lady had a short-lived triumph.
Her baby face was like her handsome father's, and the two made a pretty pair. She put up her soft red lips to kiss him once, and her aunt turned away sharply. It was ridiculous to be angry with a child, and she was irritable with herself as well as with Meg.